


Somnium

by KryptekDreamer



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/M, Geralt x reader - Freeform, Shameless Smut, The Witcher - Freeform, quarantine writing, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:21:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24486580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KryptekDreamer/pseuds/KryptekDreamer
Summary: Geralt spending the night at an inn reader works at after killing a monster that had been terrorizing the town, and reader sneaks into his room at night to give him her own thanks but then gets frightened at how actually Violent and Strong he is and makes to leave, but he insists on following through
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 87





	Somnium

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for @sherrybaby14 ‘s prompt challenge over on Tumblr! I've been on hiatus for a little over a year now and this was just what I needed to get back on the writing horse!

The room was darkly lit, a single candle in the far left corner was barely a flicker behind the dusky glass. It cast shadows over your hips as they rolled against his. It washed a faint warm glow over the rise and fall of your chest as you tried to catch your moans before they woke the entire inn. 

He watched from below you, your eyes fluttering closed in pure bliss, and his nearly predatory gaze drinking in the sight of your shaking body. Your hips swayed to some unheard music as you lost yourself in the pleasure, his cock driving up into you, meeting your eager thrusts. He growled and his hand slid up your back, over your shoulder and into your hair, fisting it and pulling you down into a ravenous kiss. His other hand slid down to grip your hip, and before you knew it, in a whirl he had you flipped and pinned underneath you, pushing your leg up and picking up his pace, driving deep within you. 

Gods it felt amazing, his hips rolled into yours with expert ease, and his teeth grazed your soft neck, marking it giving not a single damn about how visible they were. You didn’t want him to stop. You could stay like this forever if you had your way. But the universe had other ideas.

You wake with a start, the sound of shattering glass and drunk squabbling shaking you out of your dream. You sit up, pressing a hand to your neck where those teeth had felt so real. Your skin is flushed and slick with sweat and you’re sure you look a sight. But you only have time to slip out of your nightgown and into far more suitable attire to deal with your awake and seemingly very drunk guests. 

A glance out the murky window and you’re disappointed, but not the least bit surprised to see that the sun has barely risen over the horizon. Smoke still hung low over the village, the last remnants of the winged beast that had terrorized your neighbors for the last four months. Never had you realized just how idiotic the people of your village were until they mistook a basilisk for a dragon, and attempted to lure it into the village square and kill it themselves. Suffice it to say that it didn’t end well. 

You’d finally been fed up with the pigheaded men refusing to ask for help. A half-melted town was terrible for business, and you weren’t having any of it. If they wouldn’t admit that they stood not a chance against the beast with their poorly thought out planning, then you were going to take matters into your own hands. 

You’d heard rumor of a Witcher roaming the surrounding area, slaying any beast- for a price. You were a small village, but you were one of the lasts villages before any weary travelers reached Cintra. Your inn was always bustling with new and strange characters. Stranger or not, they brought in enough coin to appease the Butcher, as your neighbors so...fondly referred to The Witcher. 

So when he stopped in your humble little town, on his way to Cintra no doubt, he was god-sent. He’d come into your inn, ready to pay for one night. You convinced him to stay for three, free of charge and with a hefty bag of coin if he made quick work of something your town’s strongest men had taken four months to fail at. He’d left last night and as you peered out the window, tying your apron around your waist, you caught sight of his unmistakable white mane trekking up the hill atop his gorgeous mare towards the inn, something large swinging from the saddle.

Your dreams were going to have to wait.

“I wager he doesn’t make it back before nightfall.” One of your patrons slurred, swirling his bandaged finger around the amber liquid you’d just poured into his stein. You swatted at his wrist and he reeled back with a yelp. 

“You keep stirring that bloody stump in your ale, you’ll not being getting another refill today Byron.” You quipped, tossing him a cloth to whip his hand. The dressing around his finger was already soaked through with blood and you could tell the alcohol was beginning to burn through. He’d been one of the ones to go out first and try to take the beast down. He’d lost his finger because he couldn’t shoot an arrow to save his life. Though that wasn’t the story he told anyone unfortunate enough to be in earshot. 

He grumbled and took a long swig from the frothy liquid, grimacing at the acrid taste. You chuckled and swapped his drink. You leaned against the counter an inquiring eyebrow raised. 

"I'll take a shot at that."

He frowned and took yet another large swig from his stein. “What? I don’t strike you as the betting type? You wound me, Byron, you should know me better than that.” You laugh, moving around the bar and intercepting Beth, and relieving her of two trays of piping hot gruel on her arms and another tray balancing precariously on her very pregnant stomach - she’d insisted upon working despite it being nearly the eve of her bairns birth. She wanted to catch a glimpse of The Witcher herself. 

“It’s not that. I just don’t want to have a sore loser on my hands.” Byron slurred after you, watching you whisk around the dining area, weaving expertly between patrons were beginning to rouse and make their way to help themselves to the seemingly bottomless kegs your father had installed years before he passed and left the inn to you.

“Alright then, since you’re so convinced that a man with far superior hunting skills is going to have worse luck than a drunk who can barely drink me under the table- you’re on.” You place the last bowl of gruel in front of Byron’s skeptical face and sidle back behind the counter. You lean towards him, resisting the urge to cringe at the stench wafting off of him. He’d been drinking longer than you’d originally thought. You were going to have to reconsider leaving the kegs out at all odd hours of the night.

“I wager he comes through that door in the next twenty minutes.” Byron scoffs. He thinks you’re ridiculous. “And what, pray tell girlie, will you be winning if he comes through that door on anything but a stretcher?” 

“Every round for the rest of the week is on you.” You chuckle at the scandalized look that crosses his face before he tosses his head back and has a good laugh before fixing you with an amused look.

“You’re on. And when I win, you’ll be clearing my tab and-”

Before he can finish, the door to the inn swings open with a frame shattering thud and the Butcher of Blaviken stomps in reeking of acid and guts and covered in just that. Every head not hanging from a raging hangover turns to watch him stride over to the bar. His eyes catch yours, and you’re momentarily transported back to your dream this morning. You shake your head and raise an eyebrow at Byron who’s gone pale.

“Clearing your tab and...what?” He scoffs and glares at The Witcher as he stops at the bar. You cast a sidelong glance at him, trying to ignore the fact that you’d just been dreaming of him not even an hour earlier. You place a pint in front of him, he looks like he could use it. He offers a curt nod of thanks and knocks it back faster than you thought possible. 

“So, did you actually kill the beast?” Byron asks incredulously and you find yourself rolling your eyes. You wave a hand over the Witcher.

“What do you think? That he just rolled around in guts and called it a day?” Byron scowls at you and the sound of The Witcher chuckling underneath his breath catches you by surprise. You raise an eyebrow at him, smirking. “If he had,” you continue, directing it at your visitor. “He’d be sorry he ever stole money from me.” His eyes look almost amused as he stands. 

“If you’re so skeptical, you can ask your Lord of the Manor how he likes his new trophy.” Byron, looking thoroughly pissed, huffs and slips off the stool and wander over to the kegs, muttering something about being bested by a filthy mutant. 

You shake your head and wipe the counter down with one hand and refilling the Witcher’s stein. Guests have wondered out of their rooms to stare at him like he’s an amusing new animal, though they keep their distance. And you’re certain it has nothing to do with the state of his attire. You shake your head, ashamed of the people you’ve grown up calling friends and neighbors, listening to their barely concealed whispers about him. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard it all.” You say, casting a sidelong glance at him as you mark Byron’s tab down. “But I’m sorry the rest of my town isn’t as grateful as I know they should be.” 

He shrugs and takes another swig. He sets the cup down and even though you’re turned away refilling the glasses Beth had just brought to the bar, her eyes unabashedly drinking him in, you can feel his eyes on you. And when you shoo Beth away and turn back to him, he’s still watching you. Dried blood from the beast no doubt has darkened his hair a bit, and a small scar that he’s haphazardly treated is still bleeding a bit on his chin. Despite all of this, you still want him. And the way he’s staring at you, you’re certain he can tell.

“And are you?” He asks, his honey-colored eyes seem to darken a bit and although they’re incredibly intimidating, you refuse to look away. You stare him down, setting your rag down and leaning against the bar towards him. 

“Am I...what?” How does one man look so damn kissable covered in the blood of a slain beast? .

“Grateful.” He raises his eyebrows, looking genuinely curious, but you know why he’s really asking. 

“What, the hefty bag of coin wasn’t enough to prove that?” You tease. He chuckles wryly. Twice you’ve amused him, and something tells you that that’s rare and you should relish it. He stands and places a coin on the bar for the pint. You wave it away.

“You single-handedly took the beast down in record time, consider it a thank you.” He raises an eyebrow at you. “Hmm...you know where to find me if you have anything else you’d like to say.”

You gape at him as he strides up the stairs. You laugh incredulously, heat flushing to your cheeks. 

“Not very subtle is he?” You nearly leap out of your skin at the sound of Beth’s voice right behind you.

“Good lord Beth-” You laugh, turning to her, watching her bustle about as if that large belly of hers is no hindrance to her. You shake your head, taking the Witcher’s stein off of the bar and wiping it down once more, trying not to think about the meaning behind his words. But like the pesky universe this morning, Beth has other ideas.

“If you don’t take him up on his very generous offer- I will.” You swat at her with the rag, laughing. 

“I’m sure he’d happily have you. But you’re near bursting at the seams, and I thought you were happily married.” She scoffs and casts a glance across the inn where her husband is beguiling the young boys with his tall tale of how he lost his finger. “Sometimes I wonder why I let that idiot convince me to be stuck with him until sweet death does us part.” Her words are teasing but you see the endearment in her eyes. 

  
You smile and pat her on her shoulder. “He’s just nervous about his first child. And sore that a Witcher bested him. He’ll be right as rain when he sobers up to see that beautiful baby of yours.” You reassure her. She nods and turns back to you, fixing you with a determined gaze. 

“Enough about me and mine. You haven’t been with someone in years girlie.” You flush and open your mouth to protest. “And I know, you’ve been too busy taking care of the inn after your father passed, bless his soul. But you need to take care of yourself, dear. And that includes your more primal needs.” She’s not that much older than you, but she reminds you of your mother the way she plants her hands on her hips and fixes you with that look. 

You sigh. “I appreciate the concern Beth, but I barely know the man. And he’s a Witcher, mind you. I don’t think sassy innkeeper girls are what he favors.” 

“Ha!” She snorts, shaking her head. “You’re as beautiful as you are blind. Did you not see the way he was looking at you? Not just today, but the day he arrived he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Now I’m not asking you to make the man fall in love with you,just...share something with him. He wants you and you most certainly want him.”

You flush. You can’t say she’s lying. It has been some time since you’ve been with anyone. Taking over the inn that had been in your father’s family for generations had made it a little hard to have flings. 

“Fine. But if he laughs in my face, don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

~~

And now you were standing in front of the man’s door several hours later questioning once again how you let Beth convince you to do this. She’d sent you away hours ago but you’d stubbornly found some other thing that needed doing around the inn. Bedding for the other guests, refilling the kegs with your father’s special blend, cleaning god knows what because you kept the inn spick and span.

Finally, she’d practically bullied you up the stairs. You’d begun to look a bit worse for wear. The word that not only was the infamous Witcher was in town, but that he was fresh off of a hunt, had spread like wildfire. And you finally hadn’t needed an excuse for why you weren’t pursuing ‘your primal needs’ as Beth had so gracefully put it.

But by then your other barmaid had arrived looking like she was ready for a night on the town, and not to serve the hoard of weary travelers hoping to catch a glimpse of the man. 

“If you don’t get your ass upstairs and see that man, I have no doubt in my mind that Linda will do it for you.” 

~~

Beth wasn’t exaggerating when she’d pointed out that you hadn’t done this in years. You’d felt like a silly school girl standing in front of the mirror trying to make yourself look less like an exhausted, albeit horny, innkeeper. But you did want him. She hadn’t been wrong about that. You could still feel the phantom touch of his hands on your hips, gripping them as he pulled you down onto him. It’d been a dream, and yet it had felt incredibly real. 

You sighed and reached up to knock on his door. You were unsure of what you were going to say. You didn’t want it to sound like a proposition. Though you supposed it was. You falter and realize that whatever you ask, it will never sound normal. What if Beth had mistaken a stare of indifference for a gaze of “unbridled lust in those golden eyes”? Maybe it was better to resign yourself to thinking of him as you soothe the ache that had started between your thighs the moment he walked back in this morning, on your own.

  
You drop your hand with a sigh and begin to turn away. The door swings open before you’ve even begun to walk back down the hall to your room. You give a start, steadying your hand on the door frame, and your instantly aware of just how...naked he is. He's clean of all the guts and blood that had previously clung to him like a second skin, and his hair gleams in the low lantern light that shines on his broad chest. The towel he has wrapped around his hips is barely hanging on. 

  
“Er, good evening.” You hear yourself say, and you internally cringe. God, you were off to a terrible start. You manage to glance away from his pectorals and meet his shining eyes, and you could have sworn that for a split second a smirk tugged at his delectable looking lips.

“Are you coming in, or are you going to stay out there for the rest of the night?” He chuckles, and you blush again scowling as you slip into the room. He barely moves and your arm brushes against his warm skin. It sends a spark of excitement through you. Had it been so long that the mere touch of a hot body was enough to set you off?

It doesn’t matter. You’re here now, and there’s no turning back. You want him, you just have to make sure he wants you too. You turn to him, your hands clasped before you as you open your mouth to speak. But before you can, his hands are on your waist and he’s tugged you against his chest and captured your lips in a hungry kiss. You let out a surprised squeak that slips into a soft moan. It feels so damn good to have someone’s lips against your own.

Your reach up to snake your arms around his neck and push yourself up to meet the kiss with as much vigor and desire as he does. His hands slide up your hips and over your bodice, his fingers make quick work of the laces and removing it and let it fall to the floor. Your breath catches in your throat when his hands run up over your chest, and dip into your dress. You pull away from the kiss to catch your breath and moan softly as his calloused fingers run over your nipples and tweak and tease them in the best way. 

You open your eyes a bit to look up at him and are a bit startled to see the color his eyes have taken. The bright golden has seemed to darken to almost deep amber, and they pierce your own with an almost predatory look. His hand's run-up to your shoulders and he pauses, casting a questioning look over you. You’re nervous, and this isn’t how you thought this would all transpire. But you were more than willing. You reach up yourself and watch him as you slip your dress down off of your shoulders and let it fall to pool around your ankles. 

He gives an appreciative growl and a smile quirks his lips. 

“I thought you’d be too scared to come.” He chuckled. The way he spoke, an underlying growl underneath every word, made you shiver. You watched his hands trail over your shoulders and down your back, his fingers pressing into your skin when he reaches your hips. He slips his arms behind your knees and to avoid falling against him, you hop into his arms, your own wrapping around his neck again.

  
“Fearful? What do you take me for? A scared little girl?” You laugh because honestly, you were a little fearful. You’d heard the other women tell tall tales about their night with a Witcher when they were young and childless. And how it was best to expect a broken bed by the end of the night. Even if they weren’t 100% truthful, you knew Witcher’s weren’t human, and they more than likely didn’t fuck like a human. “You asked me if I was grateful, and I’m here to prove that I am.” You whisper, your hand slipping into his hair and pulling him towards you for another kiss. Your lips slant against his and you run your tongue across his bottom lip, nipping at it playfully, and drawing a growl out of him.

He places you on his bed and crawls over you, one arm braced against the mattress and the other snaking down your body his fingers tracing over your breasts as they rise and fall with your labored breath. 

“Certainly not, if you’re so bold as to invite a Witcher you’ve only spoken to twice, to sleep with you.” You scoff, and then moan when he dips his head down to capture one of your sensitive buds into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it and nipping at it. 

“You’re..oh gods..you’re the one who kissed me, Witcher.” You retort, your fingers finding their way back into his pale locks, tugging at them as he alternates between tweaking and twisting one nipple with his fingers and sucking at the other with his expert tongue. He stops his generous teasing at your words and smirks at you.

  
“Are you saying you’d like me to stop, 𝑰𝒏𝒏𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒆𝒓?” You laugh and fix him with a warning glare. He growls, amused at your determined look, and returns his left hand to your heaving chest while his other hand runs down your side. His fingers trail over your hip, sliding down the v of your body and trailing just above your cunt before stopping. 

“You’re certain you don’t want to run for the hills?” He asks, and at first, you think he’s joking, but he looks dead serious. And you open your mouth to answer but it’s cut off by a whine. His middle finger dips down to brush over you. It slides over your lower lips, collecting your juices on it and teasing the hell out of you. He just barely pushes it in, drawing a needy whine out of you. It’s been so long since anyone else has touched you in this way, and now that someone is, you remember just how sensitive you are. He continues teasing your opening, and it’s not nearly enough. The way he watches you, those enhanced eyes catching every flutter of your eyelids, reminds you of something beastly. 

And you remember that you’re in bed with a Witcher. Not a ‘normal’ human man. His stamina is far above your own, and your certain you’ll be a sore aching mess in the morning. And a small voice of reason in the back of your head mutters that you should probably leave, and let your dreams be dreams. But just when you’ve just about convinced yourself that you should take him up on his offer to leave, he slides that teasing finger inside you, curling upwards in just the right way. It’s almost too much and just enough to let you throw caution to the wind.

You pin him with a hungry gaze and buck your hips up against his hand moaning out when the movement pushes him deeper, and his palm brushes against your wanton clit. 

“If you stop, you’ll wish the Basilisk had eaten you.” You snip and growls amusedly. He sits up and removes his hand from you and you glare up at him incredulously. You push yourself up a bit and open your mouth to protest and demand that he finish what he started. But ever one to interrupt, he’s gripped your hips and flipped you over onto your belly before you can even get a single breath out.

You groan out and bury your face in the pillow when two of his fingers slip inside your now aching cunt from behind, diving into you at an absolutely delicious angle. He leans over you, his chest against your back as his fingers begin to piston in and out of you, the lewd sound mixing with your moans. You gasp softly when his hot breath hits your cheek.

  
“Be sure to remember that I gave you some warning.” He growls into your ear. 

His fingers don’t let up, and only pick up in pace, stroking your walls and stretching them to accommodate his fingers. He continues forcing them deeper inside you at a rapid pace. You groan out and you tighten around fingers, which only seems to make him want to drive into you harder.

You gasp when his tongue teases the shell of your ear, his breath hits your neck, and sends a shiver running up your spine. You feel like you’re being claimed by a beast, and you love it. He growls softly as his fingers start to grip your walls, scissoring at a rapid pace stretching you out. 

  
You open your mouth in a silent whine, and then you finally feel him. His cock brushes against your thigh. You lift your hips to meet his fingers, silently begging for him. He chuckles and only continues to drive his skilled fingers into you. He flexes them, pressing up against that sweet spot and then retreating before you can get too much pleasure out of it.

  
“Damn it, Witcher-” You snap, your words melting into a muddle of moans when he dips down to kiss your shoulder and lets his underhand slide between you and the bed and flutter his digits against your clit. “You know what I want.” You finish, gasping softly when he flips you onto your back. Your chest is flush and his eyes trailing over your heaving chest, and back up to your eyes only makes your entire body flush with heat as well.

  
“Then say it.” He murmurs, kissing down your neck and capturing a hardened nipple in his devilish mouth when you rise in response to his fingers thrusting into you at this angle. 

Looking back, you could only blush madly at the thought of your response. Despite your sharp tongue outside the bedroom,you weren’t one to be so brazen, even with other past lovers. But something about this man had you tossing bashfulness to the wind. You didn’t care that you didn’t know him, didn’t care that this was nothing more than two bodies fulfilling a need. 

Your hands slipped up to cup his chin, pulling his face up to look at you with those honey eyes. Your legs spread a bit more and you groaned softly when his thumb settled on circling your clit, just barely touching it.

  
“I want you to fuck me, Witcher.” You whispered, biting your lip and grinning at him. You were more than ready for him. He growled, satisfied with that answer. You watched him with bated breath. A needy moan escaped your lips when you caught sight of just how much larger than you he truly was.

His fingers retreated from your dripping sex, and you watched him drink your juices off of his fingers. He lifted one of your legs and ran his hand up your thigh positioning it over his shoulder, pinning your hands over your head and leaning over you. And before you could demand that he stop teasing you, he pushes into you, filling you up and stretching you out. 

“Gods yes.” You moan, grinning up at him and wrapping your legs around his waist. His hips roll against yours, just barely moving. Though he flexes his cock inside you, and it sends a delicious jolt running through you. He’s silent, save for his growls and somehow he’s still intimidating- in the best way.

His eyes never leave yours, and it only heightens the pleasure you’re feeling. He watches your mouth fall open into a small silent ‘o’ when he slides out of you slowly and slams back into you. You bite your lip and pin him with a challenging glare.

“I thought, fuck- I thought Witcher’s were known for being rough?” You teased. You’d blame it on being drunk with pleasure and need. It’d been so long since you’d lain with anyone, you might as well get the most out of it. He chuckled and you let out a quiet squeak when his arms wrapped around you and pulled you up to sit face to face with him. You moan and roll your hips in his lap. 

  
“You’ve been listening to too many bored wives.” He chided as his hands settled on your hips and began bouncing you on his cock. His hands run up to tangle in your hair, tilting your head back and biting at the most delicate parts of your neck. With each nip, his thrusts seem to pick up speed until the entire bed is shaking and you’ve given up all hope of silencing your moans.

  
“Ha, sure, but am I wrong? How many times am I going to get the chance to bed a Witcher? I want the full experience~” Your hands run up his back and your nails dig into his shoulders while your hips bounce against him. You grind against him, your clit rubbing against his skin and burning a hot pleasure through your core. 

  
He growls in your ear, nipping at your shoulder. He pushes you back down onto the bed, raising your hips and bracing his hand on the wall. He grunts and dips his hips down to push into you, the head of his cock reaching the deepest parts of you and driving you wild. You can only hang on for dear life, and enjoy the ride. 

He fucks into you for what seems like hours, and every time he feels your cunt tightening around him and your moans turn desperate, he flips you toying with your clit but backing off every time you're ready to let go. By the time he’s edged you for the umpteenth time, you’re a spluttering needy mess. And he’s barely broken a sweat.

  
“I- Gods-” You can’t even muster up a coherent response. He lifts you into his arms and stands walking you towards the wall until your back is flush against it, your shaking limbs clinging to him. His arms enclose your body on either side of your head as he presses on, his hips snapping against yours, the lewd sounds of his cock fucking into your sopping sex filling the room. And just when it feels as if you can’t take it anymore, he slides you down onto the floor, flips you onto all fours, and slides back into you.

“You wanted the full experience.” He teased, his tongue running across your shoulder. Your body is practically buzzing from the over-stimulation. You growl in response and arch your back bucking back against him. You want, and desperately need to cum. His arms lock underneath your shoulders and pulls your back up against his chest. He captures your lips in a hungry, almost possessive kiss that leaves you breathless. With one arm still locked tightly around your body, his other hand trails down your side and his fingers trace tight little figure eight’s around your clit as his cock slams into you. You're so damn close,and you can feel the pleasure boiling inside you. And by the look in his eyes,and the way he twirls his fingers skillfully over your clit,he wants you to cum.

His golden eyes stare into your own as he draws you closer to the climax you’ve been hungry for since he first stepped into your inn. His roguish smirk is the last thing you see before a pillow comes colliding with your face and wakes you. You sit up spluttering and swatting at the air. You blink into the bright sunlight streaming through your window and glare at your assailant. 

  
“It’s about time. You were giving your guests quite an earful.” Beth chortles, dropping the pillow in your lap. “Now come on, I hear The Witcher is going to be riding through town come nightfall.”


End file.
